


Realization

by Harukami



Category: Camp Fuck You Die (LJ game), Death Note
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:12:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in a CFUD-RP universe. Camp has fallen and the no sex rule is no longer in place.</p><p>Originally posted to LJ on Sep. 9th, 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Realization

The Camp Director's dead but, unfortunately, the force field is still up. Every day, more people vanish -- presumably having found a way to breach the shield; Mello and Near are not those people.

Mello knows they should be putting forth all their effort to that end, and knows Near knows it, but there is unfinished business here.

After all, for seven years it has been a matter of personal stress that they haven't been able to consummate their relationship; if they leave camp without at least once fucking here, now that all the rules are gone, Mello isn't sure they'll ever be able to. And that's fine too -- after seven years, you get used to _not_ , but he'd rather have the closure.

Also, it's a matter of personal spite, and he's always put value in resolving _those_.

The two of them have a cabin to themselves at this point -- just a simple matter of watching others move out as they left, or as they went to join friends in other cabins, or so on, and adopting Boys' Cabin 1 as their own. L uses it sometimes, but recently he's been spending all his time outdoors, watching things change.

So they have no rules, and they have privacy, and Mello isn't entirely sure how to begin. He suspects Near feels the same way; Near's lips are tight with contemplation, and Mello watches him make a mess of his hair by winding his fingers in, one after another.

And then Near slowly untangles his hand and lifts his face so he's looking at Mello. He's apparently come to some conclusion, which is more than Mello's done.

"Well," Mello begins, and Near hits him hard.

Mello hits the edge of the bed with the small of his back and smacks down to the floor. He's reaching for guns out of instinct at this point, but Near follows the attack up, dives down to pin him, grabs Mello and shoves him against the floor face-first with a hand in his hair that grinds Mello's cheek into splintered floorboards, his other hand on the back of Mello's neck, a knee in the small of Mello's back.

Caught up in it, Mello cries out and fights back.

It is fast, and it is violent, and it is painful enough that Mello can't quite bite back a scream at one point -- less because of the pain itself, though, and more because this all needs expression somehow and he's always been loud. He shouts his voice hoarse, scrapes himself raw on the floorboards, bleeds in shallow, thready lines that sting with sweat and spatter down onto the wood beneath him. Near comes; Mello doesn't, but that doesn't much matter -- when Near shivers and goes dead-weight on Mello's back, Mello aches and Mello is dissatisfied, but, at the same time, Mello is so deeply content that he thinks the world could end right now and he wouldn't notice.

It only gets better when, somewhere between five and ten minutes later, Near's hand slides around to grasp Mello's limp cock and stroke him hard, jerk him off with rough, unsteady strokes and gets him off in under a minute. Mello hears himself make a choking noise into the wood as he comes; Near still has a hand in his hair, keeping his face pressed to the floor, and it's hard to breathe.

He thinks, at this point, that air might be an unnecessary thing.

After, he basks in the pain of his body and its lazy satisfaction. The experience was -- it has been rough and painful and bloody and violent and Near's desires over his own and he is left bruised and battered and elated and, in short, it was everything he'd dreamed of when he was younger, come to realization.

 _It's over now_ , he thinks, peaceful. Slowly, he draws breath. "Near?" He hardly recognizes his own voice, hoarse as it is.

He feels Near's lips stir against the back of his neck. "Mello?"

Mello smiles with cracked lips.

"Let's go home," he says.


End file.
